Sonic Riders, Before the Race
by C.S. Bernard
Summary: SEGA. A tribute to the most recent Sonic the Hedgehog game, it's every racer for themselves as Team Sonic go head to head with the Babylon Rogues for the Chaos Emeralds. Not only that, but others get into the race.


**Day x – 07:35 – 4 Hours, 25 Minutes **

Metal City was abuzz with the latest gossip. From news agencies, to coffee shops, to chat-rooms and forums, even down to neighbors in the suburbs conversing across their fences, every resident in the city was fervently explaining, or listening intently to, the biggest news to hit the metropolis in quite some time. Was it true? Was a major race scheduled to take place soon? Most important of all, was Sonic _the_ Hedgehog going to be there? Across the board the answer was "yes".

Earlier that week, Dr. Eggman, the notorious world conqueror, for whatever reasons, had proclaimed his so-called "World Grand Prix" open to those daring and skilled enough to risk their reputations. This challenge, as it was revealed, would be marked by the use of "extreme air gear." As the story went, the first portion of the great race would begin in extreme air's birthplace, Metal City. For visitors unfamiliar with this particular great town, it would behoove us to recount its unique history as the birthplace of a new sport that had given rise to that latest bit of adrenaline boosting paraphernalia, extreme air gear.

Born out of the desire of surfers, bikers, and skaters to combine the properties of their favored pastimes, air gear, as it was so quaintly named, was the commercial utilization of highly compressed air tanks and lightweight space age materials. With the proper funding, anyone could properly feed his or her adrenaline addiction with a steady supply of air tanks.

Like most things of popular culture, however, it had developed a negative idea in the minds of "proper society." Mostly the sport of urbanite youth, possessing an excess of disposable income, extreme air had also acquired the unsavory image as a means for street-born barbarians' to "live fast and stick it to the man." The worst of these tales blatantly accused hoverboards of being the choice getaway vehicle for that notorious band of bruisers, the Babylon Rogues. Legends do have some basis in reality, however. These nimble craft, unrestrained by the clutching hands of gravity, could easily avoid capture. Hence, the truly all-terrain capabilities of these wondrous devices were decried as another sign of the moral decay in street urchins.

In spite of all this, the air gear industry was a ludicrous enterprise and anyone with enough investment capital could easily maintain a modest lifestyle selling, servicing, and professionally riding air gear. Assuming, of course, you had the requisite expertise in air gear mechanics and were socially acceptable to patrons through your knowledge of slang, preferred stunts, and the most popular gathering places. Though one would enjoy going into full detail of these latter intricacies, these are items that would best be discussed in some other place and time.

That said, let us return to the race at hand. With a potluck of Chaos Emeralds as the grand prize, along with recognition as "being the best," there would be no shortage of competitors today.

**08:07 – 3 Hours, 53 Minutes **

Located along the western coast of the United Federation, Metal City was a locale that boasted of having the "best of both worlds." Holding civilized society within the city's boundaries and proudly sporting a pristine natural world without, Metal City denizens had something to be proud of. Being as close to the equator as it was, Metal City was also in a perpetual summer of joys. All of this rated highly on Sonic the Hedgehog's criteria for "kickin' places."

"This is some town," Sonic bemused to his traveling companions, smiling to emphasize his point.

"Sure is," Tails readily affirmed. Not only was it Sonic saying this, but, also, it was an honest truth genuinely expressed by the young fox. The lad didn't need Sonic to tell him this. He knew it for himself. Still, it has always been difficult to separate Tails's opinion from that of Sonic's.

"Ah, I don't know," Knuckles judged from behind the other two. As they continued walking along a busy sidewalk, Knuckles finished his thought, "It seems like all cities are the same to me. Too busy, too loud, and too bright."

Sonic and Tails didn't understand Knuckles's insistence on disagreeing with them in such frequent remarks. Perhaps they had him pegged right. Perhaps he was so used to arguing with Sonic, it had become a reflex action whenever the blue hedgehog would make a slight comment on any little thing. In truth, they were _partially_ correct.

Knuckles, desirous to be independent, yet at the same a leading member of a small society of friends, demonstrated his awkward social graces, bred into him by his isolated upbringing. Be that as it may, it was no impediment to the overall trio, or its reasons for being there.

_Who_ were the "Babylon Rogues?" Sonic's team couldn't discover that. _What_ were they? Trouble. Of course, it didn't take the Chaotix to detect that fact.

Sonic was certainly impressed with them. They were among the select few to elude him in a chase. Disregarding his inexperience with an air board, Sonic's prodigious ego still chastised him for his failing. He had been pushing himself with a renewed diligence since then. With resolute practice, he had been improving, if but a little, his air skills. Endowed with his unrestrained confidence, Sonic felt he could handle these avian adversaries easily. This was, and had always been, a cursed blessing in the exuberant teenager, with unforeseeable consequences. Even "Long Hair," when seeing a certain encampment along that soon-to-be-famous estuary, cheered, "Hoorah, boys! We've caught 'em napping!"

"Well," Sonic began out of the blue, "anybody got any idea where we sign up for Eggman's little game?"

The question was well deserved, but poorly received. As total strangers to this particular city they, Tails and Knuckles, hadn't the foggiest. Suddenly, though, by whatever Grace is afforded to extreme sportsmen, a bus pulled into its designated stop a few yards ahead. There, a poster, with the Imperial Eggman insignia emblazoned across it served as the backdrop to the answer Sonic sought out. In large black print, the advertisement announced:

_"Come one, come all, to the greatest tournament to be seen in this, or any other world! The EX WORLD GRAND PRIX, sponsored by Robotnik Inc. Hosted by Dr. Eggman. Entry forms available at the Eggnasium. Limited time event. Chaos Emerald required for entries of individuals and teams. All participants must use approved air gear. The Eggman Empire cannot be held accountable for any and all injuries sustained during participation in the tournament. Don't say we didn't warn you."_

"Wow," Sonic dryly commented, that smirk slipping into place, "Eggman sure went all out for this one. Come on guys, we don't need any more hints!"

"Hold on a minute," Knuckles said, literally digging in his heels by stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. "Doesn't this all seem like a bad idea, huh? I mean, it's going to be a trap, and, as always, if we play Eggman's little game, we're going to wind up in a _big_ mess." The red echidna then proposed – what he felt was – a more intelligent plan, "Why don't we just go slap Eggman around and _take_ the emeralds? It'd be easier."

Sonic scoffed, "There's no fun in that. We may be playing in his game, but we'll be walking away with the trophy."

Tails chimed in, "Besides, you've already come this far. Why back out now? I mean, we even went to the trouble of building you a security robot to watch over your island while we're here."

"Yeah," Sonic reasoned. "And you're going to give up before we've started? But, hey, if you're not feeling up to it, I guess we could get someone else for a teammate."

Knuckles's guard was up. He didn't like where this was going.

"Sonic's right, Knuckles. If you don't think you could handle an air board, we'll understand. You shouldn't compete in a contest that you don't think you're capable of handling."

Knuckles suddenly exploded, "No, no, _no_! You are not going to trick me again! Every time I try to be the voice of reason, you guys work your little psychological game on me and I go along with your hair-brained ideas! Not today! I _refuse_ to be your pigeon!"

The guardian's loud defense had attracted the notice of some passers-by, making the situation even more uncomfortable, at least for Knuckles. Sonic and Tails were the image of innocence, a visual that their companion didn't trust. They, on the other hand, seemed agreeable with Knuckles's sentiments.

"Hey, hey," Sonic waved his hands in a defensive manner. "There's no need to act like that, Knuckles. No one's trying to make you feel inferior. We're friends, right?"

Knuckles relaxed, somewhat, "Yeah. I guess."

At this point, Sonic and Tails stepped up to Knuckles and flanked him. As the small crowd began drifting back into their business, Sonic continued, placing his arm around the wary echidna, "I'll tell you what, why don't we, Tails and I, go to Eggman's little contest. You? You can go back to Angel Island and do what you think is best. Right? I mean, if what you're saying is true, and if Eggman's contest is such a hassle, then you don't have any real reason to be here today. Right?"

"Yeah," Knuckles stated firmly, still guarding against some ulterior motive in the hedgehog's words, "you're right. Protecting the Master Emerald is something more important than Eggman's rigged game."

"That's good," Tails approved. "We'll see you later then?"

"Yeah, yeah," Knuckles quipped, escaping from between the two partners, confident he'd accomplished his goal. Seconds later, Sonic and Tails dashed off for the downtown area. Victory was Knuckles's.

Those two are crazy, Knuckles thought. Always ready to just go along with whatever Eggman says. I swear. They're tricked by the Doctor's lies more often than I am. Not me, not this time. Let Sonic and Tails be the first to go on some wild race, with all those crowds, screaming at the top of their lungs, and go up against those weirdo thieves on those crazy air boards. Yes sir, I'm going back to my island. Then I can get back to guard duty, and patrol duty, and clean up duty, and night watches, and day watches, and…

Knuckles sighed, "…And, boy is all that boring. Darn it, Sonic!" Somehow, some way, he had done it. Again.

People were scattering to and fro as a peevish red echidna began jogging down the street. Somehow, it is fair to believe, few would actually stand in his way at all.

**08:39 – 3 Hours, 21 Minutes **

In another part of town, three other friends were happily walking towards the downtown area as well. Those more familiar with this trio would recognize them as Amy Rose, Cream the Rabbit, and Cheese the Chao. But, amongst the hustling and bustling citizens of Metal City, they were just another group of tourists come to sightsee. In both estimations, from friends and strangers, they would be correct. Though, the only sights Amy had in mind were setting hers on a particular colleague of her own species.

Eggman was so useful, in some ways. True, his megalomania, greed, and lust for global conquest were utterly repellant to all social interaction. Yet, he still served a purpose for Amy. Wherever Eggman went, Sonic was sure to follow. What a horrid coincidence. Amy, regardless, had found numerous reasons to come to this tournament, and this time, not as a mere witness to the events.

Imagine, Amy thought, if I won the tournament! Oh, how couldn't Sonic see me as the perfect girlfriend then? Yes sir, winning this little stunt show will prove I'm just the right match for him! _'Wow Amy!'_ he'll say. _'I was sure wrong to keep turning a blind eye to you!'_ Not only that, but if he's not smart enough to see me for what I am, I can use the carrot and stick method. When I win, and if he doesn't rethink a date, I'm pretty sure that batch of Chaos Emeralds will change his mind!

"Amy?"

"Yes, Sonic," came the pink hedgehog's daydreaming reply.

"Uh, Amy?"

Amy glanced down to her side to see that it was Cream calling her name, a minor disappointment. She gave ear to her friend's words with a clear-headed smile.

"It's too hot, Amy," Cream declared with her kindest complaint. "The weather around here is a lot warmer than I'm used to. Could we get a drink somewhere?"

Amy hummed to herself for a moment. Cream was absolutely correct. After coming out of her fantasies, Amy realized that being further south had certainly given reason for the warmer climate and certainly began to wilt both the hedgehog and rabbit. Only Cheese remained oblivious, since his fashion sense prescribed a bow tie as ample enough day wear.

"That's it," Amy snapped her fingers. "We don't need a drink Cream. We need to stop at a few department stores!"

Grabbing the younger girl's hand, Amy happily gave chase for the nearest bargains. Cream, for her part, remained befuddled, though happy that Amy was determined to do _something_ about her discomfort.

**09:06 – 2 Hours, 54 Minutes **

It was a long way to travel, he thought, but I'm here. It's insane that the Doctor would have a ridiculous contest to put the Chaos Emeralds up as a frivolous prize. It doesn't matter though, I'm here now and I _will_ get those emeralds.

Quietly, Shadow the Hedgehog, victor of the Black Arms invasion, a newly redeemed man, walked to the edge of the building he was atop and jumped. Activating his hover skates, Shadow landed on a ledge and accelerated for the next, again jumping, again landing, and repeating his leapfrogging from building to building. His goal was the stadium some blocks away.

Shadow, after his victory three months ago, was still searching for the Chaos Emeralds. Those stones weren't toys, to be trifled with by mortals, especially for such small-minded aims as those thought of by Sonic and Eggman. Shadow could, and would, always make a wiser use of these emeralds. Or, so he thought. At least in his custody, and used responsibly, he reasoned, they wouldn't be abused by the finite fools of the world.

**09:07 – 2 Hours, 53 Minutes **

First screw. Second screw. Third. Last.

The thin ventilation cover gently protruded from its rightful place, slowly yielding to the small, gloved, hands. The hands, clearing the way, then pulled the rest of the body along. Upon bringing her head out, Rouge the Bat shook her ears about, enjoying her enlarged area of movement.

At this point, begging the reader's attention, one should marvel at the talents required to wriggle through air ducts. This task – by no means a small one, even for a mere several feet of ductwork – requires quite a bit of physical fitness and a complete absence of claustrophobic symptoms, especially if the narrowness of the passageway requires the participant to remain on their stomach throughout the activity. Deprived of the simpler motion of walking on hands and knees, the person involved is required to pull their entire weight by the strength of their arms and legs, not unlike a caterpillar. This can tire out any individual, even those who are in excellent physical condition. This is critical when, upon reaching the terminus of said air duct, the hypothetical person is unsure of the potential for "fight or flight" and must have energy left over for either eventuality. In this way, one could truly admire the strengths of the peculiar bat. However, this could be tempered by the spectator's moral evaluation of her profession. Be that as it may, we shall continue to follow her on her ethically ambiguous mission.

Rouge slid the rest of her torso and legs free of the narrow exit and dropped to the floor below. Thereupon, she laid the vent against the wall and stretched her relieved joints. Not being one to dawdle, though, she immediately set about her task.

Having gained entry to Dr. Eggman's latest base of operations, Rouge had only one thing on her mind, the Doctor's prize, soon to be her own. She had exited into one of the Doctor's laboratories with the intention of transferring ownership of his Chaos Emerald to herself.

As she was perusing the Doctor's facilities, she took note that very little was different between this headquarters and the last one, and the one before it. Machine upon machine, upon machine…

What dull surroundings, she thought. Would it kill him to put in a few throw rugs?

Her musings were put on hold as she quickly spied out the emerald in question suspended over a computer console, surrounded by a sturdy Plexiglas tube. The Doctor always made it so easy. In a moment, she'd have the emerald, and the competitors for the tournament would have to find something else to claim.

Studying the console for a moment or two, Rouge decided that hacking would be her key to a quiet entry and exit. As she calmly clicked the keys, searching out the proper procedure for disengaging the alarm and freeing the emerald, the young thief completely engrossed herself with her objective.

"Why Rouge!"

She froze in her actions and quickly glanced up to see Eggman's face, distorted by the Plexiglas, beaming at her with a malicious, toothy, grin. She decided to be nonchalant.

"Ah, Eggy," she said with a tone of cordiality, "I…"

"Didn't expect me to be here?"

The Doctor had cut into her nonsense, and quick. It was somewhat insulting. Still, she knew she had been caught. Why lie? "Yeah, something like that."

"I could imagine," Eggman smugly stated as he rounded the console and stepped forward to face Rouge without its obstruction. He then played the part of an innocent man, poorly, "Now Rouge. You weren't planning to steal my emerald were you? I mean, if you did that, I wouldn't have anything for the tournament, now would I?"

"Don't think of it like that, Doc, just think of it as my being a smarter player who decided to show everyone else who really is the best."

Suddenly, Rouge was physically swept off her feet and twirled in the air before she could realize what had happened. A spectator could see that one of the Doctor's robots, a hefty red and white striped automaton, had crept up behind her and grabbed Rouge's ankles, and hoisted her into the air, leaving her no room to maneuver. Just as capriciously as she had been standing, and now wasn't, Eggman dropped his friendlier looking façade for a nastier complexion.

"Not today, batgirl," the Doctor was snarling like a bear. Leaning forward, he looked his new captive in the eye. With Rouge's reflection dimly visible in the Doctor's pince-nez lenses, Eggman continued, "I've gone to too much trouble to let you just come in here and dash my plans to pieces, you've already done that far too much as of late. No, if you're going to get that emerald, it's going to be on my terms this time. If you want it so badly, you're going to have to enter the tournament, just like everyone else, including my friend here."

Rouge was spun around to see her arresting opponent. She was mildly impressed by the hefty robot. Not by his appearance, which obviously mirrored the Doctor's, but by his prodigious strength. She didn't know how strong this particular machine was, but it was certainly stronger than her legs, her best weapon, capable of crushing steel. Refusing to play the damsel in distress for the Doctor's little charade, she retained her resilience, even if to just upset the devious schemer.

"Is that all, then? I just have to race him and win? That'll be easier than stealing it."

"Oho! I figured you'd say that!" Rouge was spun around to face the Doctor, he continued in a self-assured manner. "That's why I've got the Babylon Rogues signed up for the contest as well."

The expert treasure-hunter had heard of these famed criminals. One would expect such after being enlightened on the subject by the regular cutthroat crew that frequented her nightclub. Since the Rogues frequented that rather lawless town, their name had come to ascribed to that town, some generations ago, actually. Rumors of their exploits were quick to spread. Being reminded of their presence – she already knew they had entered – and realizing she'd have to go up against them, on their turf, so to speak, Rouge became more annoyed by Eggman's smugness.

"Fine," she said in a tired voice, "where do I sign up?"

Eggman smiled broadly, as any showman would, "Why, at the stadium in the center of town, of course. Let Robo-One point you in the right direction."

No sooner than the Doctor had said this than her captor turned and walked over to a huge window. Unseen by Rouge, Eggman pressed a switch on the console, which activated the mechanism to raise the glass vertically and allow for the hot day's air to come rolling into the air-conditioned room.

Winding up like a baseball pitcher, Robo-One prepared to, and then did, hurl Rouge high into the sky. In a moment, she had stabilized herself by unfurling her wings and began to rhythmically churn them up and down, holding herself somewhat close to the place she had exited. Eggman was standing in the window.

"The next time I see you," the Doctor barked, "you better have some air gear and a Chaos Emerald of your own!"

"Fine!"

Once the window was shut and the Doctor gone, Rouge resolved that, regardless of who was in the contest, she was going to be the one to walk away with the emeralds. Upon settling the matter with herself, she set course for Metal City, planning to settle the matter with Eggman.

**09:17 – 2 Hour, 43 Minutes **

"Imagine that," Eggman harrumphed to Robo-One. "That wretched little thief thinking she could just come in here and ruin my plans for destroying Sonic and his little band. Bah! It's getting harder for a proper conqueror to earn a proper living, do you know that?"

As Eggman was speaking to the mute robot, he was walking alongside it, heading out of the laboratory and into the hallway. He continued to growl. "Chaos, Black Doom, Shadow… Metal Sonic. And _that_ constant annoyance," he referred to the recently ejected intruder with disdain. "It's everyone and their cousin trying to horn in on my business!"

As he spat his soliloquy down the hallway, Eggman began to cool, slightly. Still complaining of his "rights" to dominate the world and so forth, Eggman made his way to his personal chambers. Once he reached the doorway, and entered the room, he flared back up, "That wretched blue hedgehog has always been troublesome enough!"

Mentioning Sonic caused the Doctor to set his mind back to the most recent plan, "But we'll see about all of this today. Today, it ends!"

As he rambled on, Eggman walked over to a nearby dressing screen and began to remove certain articles of clothing, while Robo-One stood near the door, listening without much thought. Sounding a little more chipper, Eggman continued to change clothes. "Up until now, I've been playing the game by Sonic's terms. Always leaving him an edge, not getting him into an element where he's more helpless. Well, today, we'll see that _he's_ at the disadvantage; against some of the best scoundrels money could buy. Expensive as all this might be, it's worth it!"

Performing a handy quick-change, Eggman had left his regular coat, gloves, and electronic goggles behind the screen. He now wore a heavier jacket, padded for protection, and designed for high-speed vehicular racing. He also sported a few other accessories, among these, a slightly out-dated flight cap, flyer's goggles, scarf, and white leather gloves. Bedecked in these clothes, looking like a fugitive member of the great von Richtofen's Flying Circus, Eggman felt prepared to put Sonic in his place, once and for all. Feeling he had dressed for success, Eggman was put in good enough mood to laugh with a hearty vigor.

**10: 00 – 2 Hours**

"Come on Jet, why don't we just take the emerald and get out of this stupid contest?"

"Heh. Can't do that Wave, you know that."

A snort, "You're getting cocky again! This Eggman dude has you full of it."

"Ha! That tub of lard! Wave, come on, you're the smartest one here. If I wanted to just take the emerald and vamoose, wouldn't we have our tail feathers aimed at this berg and be on our way?"

"Yeah, and that's why we should already be grabbing air right now!"

The swallow turned her beak up at the unaccountably slothful predatory bird lying on his back in the comfortable cushions of a couch. Jet reclined with his hands behind his head, as if he were enjoying some a well-earned vacation. How can he do that, Wave thought, when we're surrounded by that psychopath's ugly mug?

The Eggman stamped lampshades, wallpaper, and table coasters disgusted the teen-something swallow as she glanced to and fro. Jet was even propping his hands against a throw pillow that beamed with the Doctor's ridiculous smile. The subtle reminders of just whose headquarters they were temporarily residing within were far from being mild. The more Wave looked at all of these things, the more she wanted her, so-called, "fearless leader" to go ahead, rob the old coot of a doctor, and get back to the streets. Yet, for whatever reason, he was compelled to sit on his feather duster and await the Doctor's next nonsensical whim.

"Come on Wave," the emerald hued hawk cajoled, trying to tickle her knee with a newly freed hand, "even for a tech whiz you do too much thinking. Why don't you relax?"

"Because," Wave snapped, taking a step back from the sweet-talking hawk's playful digits, "you know what kind of reputation the Doc has, he ain't exactly trustworthy."

With a smirk, the leader sat up and asked in an incredulous tone, "And we are?"

The swallow rolled her eyes.

"Besides," the leader quipped as he stood up to stretch, "you know this is just too important to us, all of us, just to let this opportunity pass. Do you know what it'll mean when the Babylon Rogues win that tournament today?"  
Wave refused to answer, but she knew where this was going to go. And, as always, a male was a poor guide.

"All we have to do is beat the 'great' Sonic the Hedgehog and we'll go from just small time bandits to world infamy! Yeah, that hot-shot hedgehog's pretty good on his feet, but when we school him up in front of the whole world, we'll be all that…"

"And that's a fact," Wave grudgingly recited the repetitive slogan.

"Ain't that right Storm?"

"You bet chief," the husky albatross affirmed. Storm had, hitherto, been silent on the mild contest of egos, hoping to literally "avoid ruffling some feathers."

Wave refused to be swayed on the matter. So, Jet dropped his act and cut to the chase. "Ah, don't worry about it, as soon as the hedgehog chokes on our dust in front of all those people, we'll fly the coop. And, if the Doc thinks he'll stiff us on the bill, well, I think we'll still be able to get what we deserve." The hawk chuckled as he patted a small black box lying on the Eggman themed coffee table. "So, you remember the motto, right? _We birds of the feather…_"

A coy sneer twirled the across the satiated face, "_stick together_."

The unifying ritual was sealed with a triple sided handshake – three gloved thumbs pressed together. Rarely does one find such honest application of the ideal, "thick as thieves."

The exuberant mood was whisked away by the sudden opening of a sliding doorway. It was the Doctor, flanked by two robots, Robo One, and a green counterpart.

"Are you birds ready?"

Notwithstanding the absurd costume of the Doctor, Jet managed to avoid an ill-timed chuckle. Wave on the other hand, shied away so that she could giggle to herself. Storm remained thoroughly detached enough to not notice.

Jet managed to speak up, "Yeah, Doc. We're set to go." He sniffed rather loudly to hold back his still active urge to guffaw.

The Doctor was exultant, for reasons unbeknownst to his hired help, "Perfect! We can leave immediately!"

As the sextet assembled in the hallway, Eggman paid no never mind to the fact that something seemed exceedingly funny to the violet-feathered partner of the Babylon Rogues. Regardless, the two groups of three set off to take their post at the starting line in the stadium.

**10:05 – 1 Hour 55 Minutes**

"Hey dudes!"

Tails returned the greeting as he led Team Sonic into the small shop a few blocks from the stadium. "Hi Twister! Are our boards ready?"

"You bet little dude!" Twister, the owner of the "gnarliest air board shop in Metal City" was all too ready to present this young client with his boards. "Just need the name."

"Prower, Miles."

"Yeah! I know you guys," said the blonde air boarder. He pointed to each as he named them, "Yeah! Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles! Of course I've got your boards."

With that, the shopkeeper momentarily disappeared behind the beaded curtain. It wasn't long until he reappeared, carrying three air boards, built to the specifications given by the youngest member of the trio.

Once more, we must give pause to our story. Air boarding, as we have come to the subject more directly, is a complicated sport, once you develop expertise in the activity. Everything must be considered when selecting, or designing, an air board. Height, weight, age, even gender are of critical importance when perfecting an air board for the rider. Height, weight and other numbered factors are obvious for consideration. Why gender, though, you might ask?

If you are afforded this simple luxury, within the area of your urban, or even suburban, geographic location, stand on a street, on a day of fine weather, and watch the denizens of your own home town. As in all things in life, the inherent differences between male and female are obvious. As exists the difference between men and women's shoe sizes, so too exists the difference between _centers of gravity_.

The male, as you may observe, has a tendency to ride skateboards. Whether consciously aware of the internal force operating within him, the male will seek out a counterbalance to his center of gravity, located within his upper torso. The skateboard, which allows the rider to plant his, or even her, feet squarely in the center of the board, is an excellent counterbalance. Capable of skating on roller blades, males can, of course, apply themselves to various modes of transport as well.

Likewise, with the female, whose gravitational center is placed in the lower torso, any means of conveyance that allows her legs to be placed apart best suits her. Hence, skates can be considered her preferred mode of transit.

Of course, like any male, the female can adapt to any vehicle. Yet, it is wise to consider the male-female gravitational differences when making these adaptations and utilizing them. All of these factors go into the creation of the best air board since, like a surfboard, or snowboard the distribution of weight is critical.

For the best possible performance, a male's board is best designed so that a broad base is made, with most of the counter weight being placed in the center. Whereas, the female benefits from a narrower board with the counter weight inserted in the front and rear of the board.

Does any of this smell of gender bigotry, you might ask? No. It does not.

At one point or the other, some enterprising individual fancies that they, themselves, are revolutionary, daring to challenge the established trend of society. Usually, as of late, it is the female that tends to this blundering idiocy. Whether the male is too wise, or more likely too stupid, to think that he qualifies in these terms is an unsolvable riddle, as is the mystery of the females' madness. These self-styled goddesses of flame are a danger to all, themselves especially. For instance, they consider Rouge one of their "sisters." All too easy they allow their minds to be clouded in this aspect, since this "sister," sensing personal gains, would happily become the female equivalent to Cain.

It is the business of small minds and weak hearts to assign negative or positive connotations to either gender. What great minds recognize is there are inherent differences in the two, and then they make proper use of that information. As in all things, balance is key. Either Shadow or Rouge will readily affirm that they care little for whether they are a child of Mars or Venus. What matters, they will fervently acknowledge, if only to their own ears, is that even Jupiter's thunder is hand-crafted by wise old Vulcan.

Once one takes into account the subject's physical dimensions and substance, all other connotations of "man" and "woman" disappear in a puff of smoke. Only then can one truly see the genius of a master board maker. Thus, we resume our tale at _Air Twister's_, located in Metal City.

"Sweet! This look's great," Sonic declared of the board he held up. Beyond matching his quill color, the board was designed with his statistics in mind. This one would be less likely to buck and rear like the wild steed that Sonic had commandeered earlier that week.

A staunch traditionalist, Knuckles regarded his board more conservatively. With a hint of suspicion towards a board that, although, had been built for him, he simply stated that, "I suppose this will do." Not to be ungrateful, he added, "I think I can really do something with this."

Tails, having been the one to place the order, cast a cursory glance at his board and beamed a childlike satisfaction with the yellow wonder. He then turned to the man behind the counter, "These are swell Twist. What do we owe you?"

"Are you kidding," the normally relaxed man burst out with incredulous mirth. "I couldn't charge you guys a dime! All I have to do is tell people that it was on _my_ boards that Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles won the World Grand Prix and I'll have to beat customers off with a stick!"

"Wow, gee," Tails fumbled with his words, "I'll tell you what then, we'll be glad to tell everyone where we got our boards from then!"

"You do that little dude, and I'd owe you, big time!"

With fond farewells and "the best of luck" offered to the three competitors, Sonic's troupe returned to the streets and made their way toward the stadium. It was Tails who offered one last wave from the street side of the glass door. At that moment, he gave himself to a momentary fit of reminiscence.

For a few seconds, Tails regarded the owner of the shop through the distortion of the darkened glass. The somewhat older character was a lanky member of the mustelidae brood, possessing an abnormally large canine, which jutted from between his lips, an effect that was heightened when he grinned. Yet, the plump brown nose, long blonde locks, dark sunglasses, and open tipped gray gloves didn't mention any past involvement with this man to the young vulpine. Tails was brought to his senses by a sudden feeling of solitude and realized the others had made haste for the stadium. Tails left all considerations of the weasel where he had been standing.

"You enjoy your ride boys. It's going to be your last."

**11:45 – 15 Minutes**

The man who called himself "Twister" had several other customers that day. Two other hedgehogs, a rabbit and chao, and a bat were among these patrons. All of their orders – save for the bat's, which had been placed an hour and half beforehand and picked up fifteen minutes ago – were placed and readied earlier that week.

At this point, one should relate an incident that took place at the time of the bat arrived and collected her board…

**11:30 – Earlier…**

"There you go night rider!"

The lanky wolf-weasel's secretive client found no humor in the pun. Instead, he grunted, and compulsively said thanks, in the manner that a miser reluctantly drops a few shillings into a collection plate.

"Aw, come on, man. Don't be that way. I like to see my customers leave with a smile."

A snort, "I won't be smiling until after I've left."

"Whoa. Little bitter there, huh?"

Crimson irises rolled toward the upper part of the socket as Shadow began making for the door. Rather than stealing, he had already been affirmed that the board was "put on his tab;" a bit of charity for a moody vagrant.

"Twister" made the effort to speak again, but was halted by the detection of fragrant odor. His developed sense of smell instantly informed him of a sweet smelling vapor, sweet as nightshade. He instantly became more introverted. The darkest of the hedgehogs to visit the shop was already at the door when it was pushed toward him. Since the morning sun had the effect of bathing her in light, and the fluorescent lighting was too weak to compete, Rouge didn't notice Shadow until she was in the store.

"Why Shadow!" she said with a pleasantly surprised voice. "I didn't know you were in town today!"

"Well, small world, ain't it?"

"Now Shady-"

"Don't call me that."

A soft chuckle, "Shadow," she noticed the hoverboard, "you wouldn't be thinking of competing in the World Grand Prix today, would you?"

"What's it to you?"

"Well, if you must know, I'm entered in the same competition."

"Isn't that nice."

"But, there's a problem."

Red-rimmed eyebrows were raised.

Long, slender fingers, delicately gestured their way towards a tuft of pallid chest hair, "That old skin-flint egghead says I need a Chaos Emerald to actually take part in the race. I was wondering if you'd find it in your heart…"

The statement was left open-ended. Both bat and hedgehog knew that the latter already possessed a Chaos Emerald. Feeling violated, though, the male slapped away this black widow's probing hand. "You're out of luck," he gruffly revealed.

She sighed, "I thought as much." Suddenly, she assumed a less lady-like air, even dropping the light breathing she used to accentuate each word, meant to stir a male's blood. "Okay, I know I'm not going to get much for charity, so how's about a business deal."

The stern face didn't say yes, yet the unmoved feet didn't object.

"I know you're the 'ultimate' creature, but you and I both know that everyone who can ride an air board is going to be in this tournament, including Sonic and his little pals. On top of that, it is Eggman we're dealing with, so everyone's going to have their hands full in this race."

"Would you get to the point?"

"Gladly. Wouldn't your chances of winning be better if you could double your odds?"

"Meaning?"

"Take me as your teammate, for old time's sake, and we'll win that tournament, together."

"And what kind of fool do you think I am?"

"One who knows it'd be easier to take the emeralds from me, rather than every Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles you can come across."

"You make a good point."

"Don't I always?"

"No, not always. Still, you've got yourself a deal, for now."

"Well, aren't I the luckiest gal."

"You got a board?"

"As a matter of fact…"

The former leader of Team Dark, having just reopened her enterprise as a partnership, sauntered over to the counter. She quickly got the attention of the shopkeeper. By that, she insisted upon his attention, for whatever reasons, "Twister" was reluctant to take note of this person, whom he had been expecting, though dreading, as though she were death.

"Is my board ready?"

The usually friendly merchant was hesitant and evasive, "You bet ma'am." Even his voice was camouflaged by an attempt at a huskier tone.

As the board was summarily brought to her, Rouge complimented, "Now that's what I call service." She then added, "Don't worry about your pay, you can just call the government, they'll handle the expense."

"You bet."

With that, Rouge rejoined Shadow and they both went out the front door. It was at that brief moment one could hear a small conversation begin, then fade away.

"That's odd, he was all talk when I picked up my board."

"And?"

"And, he never seemed too interested in you."

"Heh, oh well. I guess that's small-timers for you-"

"Twister" was displeased with this. He grumbled at the back of the woman who, had he not disguised himself properly, would have recognized a fellow ne'er-do-well.

"Small-timer? Yeah, well, at least I ain't got a short time meeting with a bad end."

**11:45…**

Though it was a peculiar coincidence that some familiar names and faces found their way onto "Twister's" list of clients, it wasn't wholly impossible. Thanks to his contract deal with Robotnik Inc. "Twister," in fact, appeared to any unsuspecting customer to be one of the more popular air board purveyors in town. This was complemented by the fact that his shop was situated so near to the stadium itself.

It should be known, in the shadier part of "Twister's" history that his shop is relatively new, that this present career was, in truth, a lie. For those whose memories stretch back far enough, they would recognize that "Twister" had a previous connection to the C.E.O. of Robotnik Inc. This same chief executive, flashing his rough rider's sneer, promised "Twister" that today's customers would be in for a "real surprise."

**11:55 – 5 Minutes**

"Attention, please!" a good-natured automaton's voice announced, "Attention! Would all air riders taking part in today's _World Grand Prix_ please report to the starting line!"

Sonic glanced about himself, noting the familiar faces surrounding him. "Sonic!" He cringed at the voice.

"Oh Sonic, there you are!" beamed Amy as she walked forward with her air board slung under her arm.

"Uh, hi Amy," Sonic remained cordial, though inwardly anxious.

"Aren't you glad to see me?"

"I guess- wait. Are you in today's tournament too?"

"Oh," Amy played innocent, though she wielded the board like a smoking pistol, "this thing? Yeah, I thought I could try something different and go out for some extreme boarding."

Sonic knew Amy better than she realized. The lie was obvious. The most extreme sport Amy ever took part in was boutique brawling for the last of the designer dresses. In that field if competition, Amy stood above all others. It was at that moment Sonic regarded Amy's current ensemble. She had, for today's entertainment, decided to wear a lighter white and pink dress with neon pink go-go boots.

"So, Sonic," Amy warmed up to the other hedgehog, "what if I win today? Would you consider going on a date with me?"

It is a true test of diplomacy to balance the temper of a determined fan. Aside from the concern of hurting Amy's feelings, Sonic had the fear, however small or large it might be, of Amy's Piko-Piko hammer to contend with. So, no matter how much he wanted to avoid a "yes", "no" was still somewhat out of his reach. As the young man stammered on an answer, his eyes alighted on his salvation – a filibuster.

"Hey there Cream," Sonic welcomed the younger girl as she came alongside Amy, "are you going to be racing today too?"

"That's right Sonic," she politely greeted.

Sporting an orange jersey and matching shorts, Cream was better prepared for the weather, and wore a visor to block out the worse part of the bright summer light. Amy's was an intelligent way of beating the heat. That's why she let Amy order a board for her as well. Mister Twister even complimented her on being such a brave girl to enter such a wild contest.

"I'm hoping everybody will have a great time today," Cream continued.

"Well," Sonic smiled in a big brother fashion, "I'm pretty sure we will. Looks like I better go and get ready myself. See you two at the starting line!"

Before Amy could turn the conversation back to her amorous intents, Sonic had already managed to evade all attempts to follow up. One had to admit it. Fight or flight, the boy was good.

At the same time, Knuckles was studying his board, feeling its weight and getting a fairly informed view of the vehicle that would be carrying him in the tournament. He was going over the details that Tails had given him on the workings of the board.

Air boards, as the fox lad explained, twice, require air for propellant in the same way various other vehicles require fuels. Pressing the acceleration pad all the way down would speed the board up, but devour tremendous amounts of compressed air. To keep the boards properly "fed," the rider has to "pick up air" as they ride. Of course, this wasn't as simple as having the board take air from moving forward. Otherwise, these machines would be perpetual in their locomotion, and, as is widely accepted, this is impossible. Thermodynamics are, of course, the killjoy for this particular idea.

One method is to get your board behind another rider and absorb some of the air expelled by their board. Granted, a considerable amount of air would go to waste, as a practical scientist would inform us. Yet, it was still an effective method and used as a secondary method of "refueling" anyway.

Having mastered "piggyback" method, a true rider could force air into the intake system by literally "grabbing air" while high above the ground and completely removing their foot from the accelerator. The compression and expulsion systems of these boards were, obviously, enough to make the little "techno-geek" fawn over their simplistic, yet ingenious designs.

"So, Knuckles, you're my competition today?"

Knuckles paused cramming for his little test and turned around to come face to face with a familiar white bat. She slyly grinned to him, "Why don't you just quit and go home now, before you embarrass yourself?"

The resilient echidna gave a bull-headed snort, "Oh please Rouge, it's not like your such an expert yourself."

"That may be," Rouge stepped forward, lightly pinching his cheek, "but I've got a knack for leaving my competition grounded." As a psychological tactic, Rouge flexed her shoulders and extended her wings as far as they'd go. If the sun weren't near its noonday apex, she probably would have stripped Knuckles of some of his mulish sense of security by casting him beneath an imposing shadow.

"Ah," Knuckles growled, pushing her hand and wings away, "that's not so impressive. I've been gliding for years. So you ain't got any advantages on me."

Rouge, dressed for success, was wearing a leather sports top and slacks, frowned, though not in true sadness. "Oh, Knuckles, if that's the way you're going to be about all this, I guess I have no choice but to humiliate you."

"Oh yeah," he flared, "well, bat-girl, we'll see who's crying at the end of the day! And I bet it won't be me!"

She shrugged, "Suit yourself."

With that, she sauntered off, as if she hadn't a care in the world. For whatever reasons, perhaps for reasons he couldn't explain to himself, or anyone else for that matter, Knuckles stared after her, outwardly showing disdain. Carrying her board across her back and under her arms, her wings drooping over the heart themed designs, Rouge stopped for a moment and cast a flirtatious smirk over her shoulder. Knuckles blushed slightly and returned to studying his board. Rouge smiled and continued toward the starting line. It is a unique Providence, with an unfathomable sense of justice that had, from time immemorial, put such enmity between this man and this woman who, by all ideals of passion would deeply love each other. Yet, what is is.

**11:56 – 4 Minutes**

Sonic smiled as he approached the other hedgehog. Seeing the red streaks through his quills highlighted both his hair and Sonic's grinning. "Hey Shadow!"

The crimson pupils rolled up under the ebony lids. He turned and acknowledged the lighter toned hedgehog, "Sonic."

"You're in this too? Seems like Eggman's little games have drawn a pretty big crowd."

"What do you expect? There are Chaos Emeralds at stake."

"And that's all you're here for?"

"Yes. And when I win, I won't be hanging around."

"Not looking forward to having a good time?"

A scoffing sound, "The only thing that'll make me feel good about all this is getting an emerald." A smirk twisted onto his lower lip, realizing something he hadn't before, "And beating _you_."

"Hey, as long as everyone has a blast I say."

As Sonic smirked, Shadow frowned, "Whatever."

Watching Shadow leave, Sonic, as well as Shadow himself, reflected on the fact that they really didn't see each other's point of view with any clarity. The situation, as neither of them realized, was the same as a person who has lived in light all his life is lost in the darkness, whereas a person who lives in darkness is suddenly blinded by exposure to the sun.

**11:58 – 2 Minutes**

The starting line was only a short distance away, and everyone had begun to walk through the corridor that led him or her to the main arena. Unexpectedly, they were all stopped by a sudden obstruction.

"Greetings everyone!" the Doctor's voice boomed in the cavernous passageway. "I'm so glad you could all make it to the first, ever, _World Grand Prix_!"

The moods that ranged across the crowded corridor were as varied as the rainbow. Everyone knew that Eggman was going to appear, but most were flippant towards, annoyed with, and surprised by the Doctor's obvious intention to actually participate.

"So, Doctor, you're in the tournament as well?"

"Ha-ha! Shadow, I'm astonished by the fact you'd think I wouldn't put my money where my mouth was! Of course I'm entered in today's fun and games. After all, I thought I deserved to have a good time with some good friends."

This unsettled those present, in two ways. One, Eggman wasn't a "good friend;" for any of them. Second, just who did the Doc think he was fooling? _Him_? Taking part in a _race_? Then again...

Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, and Amy were familiar with Eggman's competitive streak. It'd been a while since they'd actually seen him trying to outmaneuver them on the track. But, they knew the madman was no fool when it came to piloting his vehicles. Perhaps Sonic was the only one present who felt that, given the type of race this would be, it would be interesting to see the Doctor, for once, on a leveled playing field to race him; very interesting, indeed.

"Well, if you're in this race," Knuckles quipped, "I'm betting the race won't exactly be fair?"

Eggman erupted with another devious laugh, "Ho! Ho! Ho! Why Knuckles, you have absolutely nothing to worry about! For today's race, there are only two rules: one, First one across the finish line wins, and two, its every team for themselves."

_Very_ interesting.

"So E-man," Sonic smirked, "are we going to talk all day, or are we going to race?"

"Oh, we'll be racing all right," a new voice made itself known. Eggman, somewhat surprised, turned slightly. Catching a glimpse of some green feathers, he raised his left arm to let the half-his-sized hawk pass around him.

Jet continued, "Hi there, Sonic. You look different in the day time, without the pavement glued to your face, that is."

"Oh, yeah? Well, you got lucky the other night. Today, the ball is in my court."

"Is that so, pincushion? You keep telling yourself that, because the Babylon Rogues are going to turn you into chicken feed."

His accomplices, the swallow and albatross, joined the hawk. The femme cast a mean-spirited smirk to the smaller fox. Tails returned with a determined look, and cast his ears forward, intent on staring her down. As for the albatross and echidna, they sized each other up. Each made shows of physical prowess, flexing muscles, cracking fists, etc.

"Hey, are we going to race _today_?"

Jet turned his attention to the impatient bat, "Eh, sure babe. Right Doc?"

Feeling better that he was, once again, the center of attention, Eggman declared, "But of course! Racers, to your starting positions!"

**11:59.30 – 30 Seconds**

As everyone waited on the starting line, a clock counted down the seconds until the race for the emerald would begin. In the tense seconds leading to the green light, the contestants cast final glances amongst each other.

All right feather duster, Sonic thought, you're going down today.

You may be the fastest thing on foot, hedgehog, but I'm the air master!

Rouge cast a seductive glance to Knuckles, only a few feet away. She blew a kiss to him. Her target rolled his eyes and grimaced. He instead preferred the less flirtatious, stone face of the albatross across from him.

**20 Seconds…**

I'm going to get that emerald and get out of here; I don't care what anyone else does, or who they do it to. Shadow smugly mounted his stationary board.

Just you wait Sonic. As soon as this race is over, you're mine! Amy let her fantasies linger a few moments longer.

I hope Mother sees me on TV, Cream smiled to herself. Cheese had happily taken to perching on her shoulder.

**10 Seconds…**

"_Racers! Lift off!"_

The hum of thrusters purred through the collection of air vehicles. The prone devices began to levitate into the air. The "Christmas Tree" lights activated and began their final countdown. Final intimidating smirks were cast amongst the more belligerent part of the crowd.

**5 Seconds…**

Perfect. Everything's going according to plan. No matter how many ways I slice it: I can guarantee Sonic – along with everyone else here – will come out on the bottom of the heap. Today, the Eggman Empire will have its first ever Hall of Fame moment – the twin triumphs of yours truly in both winning the World Grand Prix, and in eliminating Sonic the Hedgehog!

The Doctor exuded an old lion's confidence as he sat atop the only air bike in the tournament. He grinned with mischievous glee as he carefully glanced to the air boards manufactured by Robotnik Inc.

**3…**

**2…**

**1…**

**Go!**

**_To Be Concluded in Sonic Riders…_**


End file.
